Prince Gendry And Lady Arya
by Moultipass1
Summary: The fact that he'd have to marry for political reasons was something Prince Gendry had accepted long ago, and the way he saw it, Arya Stark was someone he could come to at least like, which was more than he'd hoped for.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know why I'm writing this since I'm not usually a big fan of this kind of AU stories, but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is. It should be relatively short, no more than 3 or 4 chapters, and I'll try to update every Monday. **

**Disclaimer: none of the characters belong to me, I'm just having fun with them for a little while.**

**Reviews greatly appreciated :)**

* * *

**EDDARD**

Lord Eddard Stark was not prone to nervousness, yet as he waited for the visitors to show up, he felt the need to shift his weight from one foot to the other in an unusual display of anxiety. He suppressed it, of course, but his calm exterior did not fool his wife. Catelyn briefly squeezed his hand in support, releasing him as soon as they heard the distinctive sounds of approaching horses.

He could think of only one way to explain Robert Baratheon's long journey to Winterfell right after they'd heard about Jon Arryn's death, and he didn't like it. He already knew he wouldn't be able to say no. How could he, after the king himself had travelled a whole month to come here and ask him in person?

With a sigh, he looked at his children, knowing what he would see on each one of those faces. At six of age, Rickon was a bit young to really understand what was going on, but the mere fact that they'd had to dress up and were all standing in the yard was proof enough for him that something exciting was about to happen. Bran, who had just turned one-and-ten, was more serious than his father had ever seen him, taking his role as Rickon's big brother very seriously. He wanted to set an example and he was succeeding. Ned bit back a smile as his gaze went to Arya, who was almost jumping up and down in excitement, asking everyone around if they had ever met the Imp. Getting her to behave during the royal visit was going to be a challenge. While he couldn't publicly approve of his daughter's behavior most of the time, the fact that she was so fierce and wild at four-and-ten reminded him so much of his sister that he couldn't help but laugh privately whenever she did something that Catelyn frowned upon. Sansa was nervously fidgeting with her hands, trying to see as far as her eyes could see. He knew why. Marriage was all she talked about, and Ned had to admit that if he had waited this long to think of a match for her, it was because he suspected Robert would want to use her to join their houses. Ever since she'd heard of Joffrey Baratheon's blond hair, she had decided that he must look like a real prince and that she was going to fall in love with him. Here in the North, brown hair was the norm, her own red locks, the same as her mother's, were a rarity, and golden heads were even rarer. Jon's face was grim, and Ned knew this was because he was old enough to understand what it all meant. The girls were distracted, Rickon was too young and Bran was probably hoping that his father would be able to say no to whatever the king wanted to ask of him, but at eight-and-ten, Jon knew better. As did Robb. His eldest son, who was only a few months older than Jon, was trying to hide his unhappiness at having been shaved, at his new haircut, and at this whole ordeal, but he wasn't being very successful. Ned caught his eye and gave him a stern look, and Robb nodded in understanding and managed to relax and even to smile a little.

At last, after much anticipation, the visitors came through the castle gates. Ned immediately recognized Jaime and Tyrion Lannister, both unmistakable for very different reasons. He had never seen the two boys who were riding behind them, but guessing their identity was easy. The eldest one bore a striking resemblance to his father. The black hair, blue eyes and strong body betrayed his Baratheon blood. He had heard only good things about Prince Gendry, many thought he would be a better king than his father, though no one had ever dared say that in front of Ned. Prince Joffrey took after their mother. His golden head looked strangely out of place surrounded by the grey walls, grey sky and grey clothes, and contrary to his brother, he bore a scornful expression, obviously not happy with being here.

Behind them was the king. Ned couldn't help but let a disbelieving smile stretch his lips as he took in his old friend's appearance. How had he gotten so fat? Robert dismounted with some difficulty. Once he was in front of him, Ned knelt, as did every single one of his people. Robert quickly motioned for them to stand up.

"Ned, it's good to see you. You have not changed at all!"

The Lord of Winterfell pointedly eyed Robert's belly, and the king burst out laughing. The two men fell into each other's arms, and it was the signal everyone had been waiting for. Grooms approached the visitors to take care of their horses and the welcoming party dissipated, leaving only the Starks with the king, and with the queen who had just left her wheelhouse to join them.

Robert asked Ned to lead him to the crypt. He was reluctant to leave Catelyn alone to deal with the Lannisters, but he couldn't refuse his friend, not when he wanted to pay his respects to the woman he had loved.

Once they were underground, Robert didn't waste any time. After a few words about Lyanna and the man who had taken her away from him, he went straight to the point of his visit.

"I would name you Hand of the King."

Ned had expected the words, but he had hoped he would have at least a day before the king broached the subject. He dropped to one knee.

"Your Grace, I am not worthy of the honor."

This drew a loud laugh from his friend.

"If you are not worthy of the honor, then no one in this bloody realm is. I need you, Ned. There aren't many people I can trust. Someone has to rule the Seven Kingdoms and the Gods know it shouldn't be me."

"You're underestimating yourself, Your Grace."

"Enough with the 'Your Grace'! And you know I'm not. I can win a kingdom, but as far as ruling it goes… We were meant to rule together, my friend. We should even be brothers," he added with a sad glance towards Lyanna's statue. "Well, it's not too late for that. You have daughters, I have sons. We will join our Houses."

Ned was speechless for a second. He had suspected Robert would want to marry Gendry to Sansa, he had been prepared to negotiate for her because he knew she wanted to marry Joffrey. He had never thought Arya would be part of the discussion as well.

"Daughters," he repeated, his voice breaking on the last letter.

Robert looked surprised.

"Yes. You do have two daughters, don't you?"

"I… I do, your Grace. But Arya is so young, and…"

And wild, and unladylike, and not ready for marriage, and completely opposed to the very idea of it, and…

"Nonsense. Catelyn was younger than that when she was betrothed to your brother."

Ned couldn't deny it anymore than he could deny that Arya was old enough for marriage. Yet even though he had always known the time would come, the idea made him uneasy. A feeling of dread crept up his spine as he tried to imagine Arya as a southern lady. There was something so wrong with the picture that he almost winced visibly.

"Robert, I am not sure Arya would be a good wife."

"Joffrey will make sure she becomes one."

This wasn't going as planned. Not at all. He knew Robert well enough to know the decision about the number of marriages was made, he would not be able to get Arya out of it, but maybe he could still do something for Sansa.

"Robert, may I suggest we let your children choose?"

He was careful not to say '_our_ children'. Robert would be more willing to go along with his idea if he thought Gendry and Joffrey would get to make the decision on their own. And he had no doubt Joffrey would choose Sansa, she had the makings of a perfect princess, especially since she was already so full of admiration for Joffrey. He would just need to try and convince Gendry to let his brother marry Sansa, and to choose Arya for himself. It might prove difficult, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

"Let my children choose? Why?"

"Why not?" He replied. "As long as there are two weddings between the Starks and the Baratheons, why should it matter who marries whom? Let them choose someone they have at least some form of feelings for, and these marriages may end up being more successful than…"

His voice trailed off as he realized what he had been about to say, but Robert chuckled good-naturedly.

"Say it, Ned. I'm in dire need of your honesty, don't you dare become one of those lying bastards I find myself surrounded with."

"These marriages may end up being more successful than yours, your Grace."

"There you go. You're not even officially Hand of the King yet, and you're already giving me good counsel. Now let's go have a drink!"

* * *

**ARYA**

The feast had been fun… Right up until the moment she'd thrown a spoonful of food at Sansa and her mother had ordered her to go to bed. Arya waited for a few minutes in her bedchamber to make sure she wouldn't get caught, and then she slipped out of the room. Everyone was busy tonight, she would make the most of it and visit the stables. She spent as much time as she could with the horses, she found they were often more entertaining than people. Outside, she heard the voices of her brother Jon and her uncle Benjen. She didn't think they would tell her mother that she was out of her bedchamber, but she didn't want to take that risk, so she stayed hidden in the shadows, moving silently with her back against the wall. She reached the stables at last and decided to go straight to Winter, her mare, but before she could reach her, a voice made her jump.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

She turned around, trying to figure out where the intruder was, but it was too dark to see.

"Show yourself."

"Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to scare you."

A tall man rose from the spot where he'd been sitting and walked closer to her. She relaxed when she recognized him. She would have preferred to be alone, but at least he was not a criminal who had been waiting for someone to show up so that he could assault them. At least she didn't think so. She stood as tall as she could, but he still dwarfed her.

"I'm not scared. And I'm not a lady."

She'd probably forgotten a title in there somewhere, but he didn't seem to mind. He just lifted one eyebrow, and she couldn't tell which one of her sentences he doubted. Maybe both. But he didn't comment. He nodded towards the horse that was the closest to her.

"Is he yours?"

"No, he's Robb's."

She gestured for him to follow her as she walked to the far end of the stables and opened Winter's stall, giving her an apple she'd stolen from the kitchen earlier. The mare happily ate it and nudged her rider's shoulder, asking for more. Arya smiled.

"She's a glutton."

"She's beautiful."

"And fast," she added proudly.

"Faster than my horse?"

She thought back to the grey stallion he'd been riding when he'd arrived. His mount was huge, but Winter's strides were quick and powerful, and she never, ever tripped, no matter how tricky the ground was.

"We'll have to find out one of these days," she challenged.

Most men, especially noble men, would have turned her down, their time too precious to waste it racing against a girl. She expected him to react exactly like that. Instead, he smirked and nodded.

"I'll look forward to it."

She raised her eyebrows as he lifted a hand to stroke Winter's neck. They left the stall after a while and sat down in front of it, their backs against the wall, side by side.

"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

She thought he was asking a serious question until she remembered he'd said he wasn't surprised when she'd showed up in the stables and she realized he was teasing her. He must have seen her at the feast, fighting with Sansa and then throwing food at her, and understood that she wasn't the type of girl who did what she was supposed to do.

"Aren't you supposed to be courting my sister?"

Prince Gendry smiled at that, and she found herself momentarily mesmerized by the way his whole face lit up, making his blue eyes look even brighter in the faint moonlight.

"I guess I am. But then, Joffrey is supposed to be courting you, and I didn't see him pay much attention to you tonight."

"What?"

It didn't take long for him to understand what she was confused about and he frowned.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought your father had told you."

He paused, and she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold run throughout her body as she tried to deny what his slipup had told her.

"Told me what?"

"Joffrey is your betrothed. Or I am."

"What are you talking about?"

"Our fathers arranged it earlier today. There's going to be two weddings. I get to choose which one of the Stark sisters I want to marry. So does Joffrey. Let's hope we don't pick the same one," he added with an uneasy smile.

Arya felt the air leave her body as she realized she couldn't deny it anymore. How could her father have done this to her? He knew she didn't want to get married, much less become a princess or worse, a queen! She couldn't decide which fate would be worse: to be chosen by Joffrey, whom she'd decided tonight was not only a prick, but also a very twisted boy, or to be chosen by Gendry, who seemed pretty decent but would be king after his father's death. And why did _they_ get to choose? Didn't she and Sansa have a say in it?

"I need to talk to my father," she announced.

Before she could stand up however, he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't."

She struggled to break free of his grip but he held on even as her fist connected hard with his shoulder.

"Let go of me!"

"You won't change their mind, and if you make a scene in front of everyone, my father will see to it that you are punished. If you want to talk to your father, wait until he's alone."

It made sense, and she stopped trying to fight him. His hold on her loosened just a little bit. Once he was sure she wasn't going to run away, he released her completely.

"You're strong," she reproached as her fingers unconsciously rubbed her sore wrist.

"Sorry. My father would have done worse if I had let you go."

"Is he a violent man?"

"He doesn't like it when people challenge his authority. He would hate it coming from such a small girl in front of a room full of his men."

"I'm not that small!"

He just smiled and looked down at her, silently pointing out their height difference, which was obvious even while seated.

"Shut up!" she scoffed.

He chuckled and stayed quiet after that, either because he was enjoying the calm or because he wanted to let her process what she had just learned. Either way, she was thankful.

"I can't believe my father did that," she whispered after a while.

"Why not? Most highborn girls are betrothed to someone before they reach two-and-ten."

"I know, but I had…"

"Hoped you were going to avoid your responsibilities?" he finished for her with a smile that was more kind than mocking, she noticed with no small amount of surprise.

She wanted to tell him that this wasn't true, that she had just hoped for more time, but he was right.

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked curiously.

She raised her eyes to meet his, not sure why she wanted to confide in him. Maybe because he hadn't run to her mother as soon as he'd found her here. Maybe because he'd stopped her from making a mistake a few minutes ago. Maybe because he actually seemed interested in her answer.

"Because… Because why should I be anything but myself? Why are they trying to turn me into Sansa? Do you know how many things there are to see in this world? Who would want to be stuck in one place forever, doing things they're not meant to do, having children who will also be forced to become someone they're not? And if I absolutely _have_ to do those things, why can't I do them here, where I belong?"

When she finished her rant and looked at him, she saw that he was staring at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She frowned, wondering if she'd said too much. He was the future king and she'd just told him that she hated pretty much everything he stood for. She briefly wondered if she should apologize, decided that she should but wouldn't. She couldn't be sorry for who she was, especially not if she had only a few months of being Arya _Stark_ left. When he spoke at last, his question and the grave tone of his voice unsettled her.

"Do you pray to the gods?"

"Not really. Why?"

"You should. Pray that Joffrey doesn't choose you. He'd beat you into submission."

"I'd like to see him try," she joked, though she could see his warning was serious. "What about you?"

He smiled, and some of the tension left her body at the sight that was becoming familiar a bit too quickly for her taste.

"I'd beat anyone who tried to beat you into submission."

She was strangely touched by this promise from a man she hadn't known a few hours ago who seemed to accept her as she was, more than her mother or sister ever had. Instead of saying so and making herself more vulnerable than she already had, she returned his smile, hers mischievous.

"If I didn't do it myself."

"Of course."

Suddenly, they heard someone call his name outside. His groan made her laugh.

"You should go back."

He pouted like a child, which made her laugh harder.

"It's not fair. Why can't _I _be sent to bed?"

"You could try throwing food at your brother."

"That's more tempting than it should be."

* * *

**GENDRY**

There had been no hidden motive behind his invitation other than the fact that he'd wanted to take her up on her offer of a race, and to prove it, he had asked Joffrey and Sansa to come with them. But Joffrey had wanted to go hunting with their father, which was odd since he hated hunting, and Sansa hadn't wanted to miss her sewing lesson. He had told Arya that they could ask someone else to accompany them if it would make her feel more comfortable, but she had just looked at him strangely, like she couldn't understand why she shouldn't feel comfortable alone with him.

She led him through the woods behind Winterfell until they reached a big open field, and before he could react, Winter broke into a gallop. His protest died in the wind and he went after her, laughing, his mount quickly closing the distance between them. Just as he was about to catch up with Arya however, the black mare sped up, and he realized she was playing with him. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes against the cold wind that was bringing tears to his eyes.

They reached the top of a hill and she abruptly turned left. He lost a few precious seconds following her lead and realized that there was no way he could beat her now. He smiled. It was well played on her part, but the next time they did this, he would choose the itinerary and see what happened. Even knowing the race was lost, he didn't slow down. He never had time for this kind of fun in King's Landing, and he had almost forgotten how much he loved it. His stallion was obviously enjoying this as well, the seemingly endless countryside a welcome change after a month of tedious walk in a long line of slow horses and even slower wheelhouses.

He caught up with Arya after she had slowed down and they walked side by side, letting their mounts choose the destination.

"Told you she was fast."

"You didn't tell me you were going to cheat."

"Not my fault you're so slow to react," she mumbled.

He laughed.

"Do you do this often?"

"Not as often as I'd like. Mother doesn't want me to go off on my own, and no one wants to race with me except for Bran, but he's usually busy training or learning boring stuff."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Don't you train and learn boring stuff?"

"Oh. Yes. I should be sewing right now. Thank you for getting me out of _that_."

"My pleasure."

"How long are you going to stay here?"

"Just a few more days. Why?"

When her face fell, he understood. For him, leaving in a few days meant going home, however oppressing home might be. For her, it meant leaving everything she had ever known.

"I talked to my father," she said after a few minutes of silence.

"I know."

She looked surprised.

"How?"

"Your sister was ranting about it when I went to ask her if she wanted to join us."

He waited. It didn't take long for the fire he'd quickly come to expect from her to light up her eyes.

"What was she saying?"

He smirked.

"Nothing flattering."

"I'm shocked."

He chuckled at her sarcasm. When she looked at him expectantly, he sighed.

"She said that you always ruin everything, then she went on about how she couldn't believe you would do that to her. I didn't really get that part, how is that doing something to _her_?"

She snorted in a very unladylike manner he found endearing.

"It's _always_ about her."

"So, I take it your father didn't have any good news for you."

"No. It seems that the peace of the realm is resting solely on my shoulders. Apparently, if I don't marry you or Joffrey, the Seven Kingdoms will fall."

She rolled her eyes as she spoke. He gave her a small smile, unsure of how he should phrase his next words.

"If… I mean… I know we don't really know each other, but I also know we could get along fairly well, probably better than you and Joffrey, and definitely better than Sansa and I."

"Are you…"

She didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't need to. He nodded his answer. The fact that he'd have to marry for political reasons was something Prince Gendry had accepted long ago, contrary to her, but it didn't mean that he didn't want to make the most of the situation. And the way he saw it, Arya Stark, in all her unconventional ways, was someone he could come to at least like, which was more than he'd hoped for, and more than he could say about her sister. He'd only spent a few minutes with Sansa, but it had been enough. He had felt like shaking her just to see if she would even react or if she would just keep her head down and wait. He'd bet on the second option.

He also knew that Joffrey and Arya were a bad match. It wasn't hard to imagine what would happen if they ended up married to each other. Arya would try to be herself, and Joffrey would try to break her. He was actually afraid his brother might choose Arya for that very reason: he'd see her as both a challenge and a way to channel his aggression.

If it had been all there was to it, he would have been confident Arya would agree to marry him, if only to avoid his brother. And because he was certain she could come to like him too. But this _wasn't_ all there was to it.

He would be king one day.

And for Arya, he was pretty sure the only thing worse than being a princess would be being a queen. He'd only known her for two days, and already he knew she would hate everything that came with the title, from the responsibilities to the constant surveillance, from the manners to the daily life.

Thankfully, there was something he could give her, something Joffrey wouldn't give her. Time.

"Listen, despite his many excesses, my father is in very good health. We wouldn't need to have the wedding right now. In fact, we could wait until I'm king." When he read the hope in her eyes, he quickly added, "We would have to get married eventually. I'm not offering you a way out, I'm offering you a few years of relative freedom. We won't even have to see each other if we don't want to."

She smiled at that.

"I think I could live with seeing you every once in a while."

"Does this mean you're agreeing?"

She looked unsure, and the few seconds before she answered were the longest he had ever known. Maybe he'd been a bit oblivious when he'd thought he could come to like her. His reaction to her hesitation sure felt like he already did and he was waiting for her answer more impatiently than he should considering he'd just met her.

"It… It means I'll think about it. My only other options are marrying Joffrey or running away, so I'm probably going to say yes, but I need to think about it."

He nodded, and they walked in silence for a while. Suddenly, as an afterthought, he asked, "You're not really thinking of running away, are you?"

He couldn't quite decipher her smile, and he found he liked that.

* * *

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much to everyone who read this. I really wasn't sure about this story, I'm glad to see people seem to like it. In this chapter is the answer to the question I've been getting a lot… is Gendry Cersei's son?**

* * *

**ARYA**

She had thought that she was going to hate the King's Road, but it was beautiful. She had always said she wanted to see the world, it was a start. She tried to forget that it was also the end and that she would probably never get to see anything other than King's Landing.

For some reason, women were expected to travel in wheelhouses, it seemed it was unprecedented for a girl to ride along with the men, and that was one of the reasons why she had been so pessimistic about this journey. But surprisingly, while her father had originally wanted her to travel with Sansa and had reprimanded her when she'd told him that she wanted to ride Winter, he had changed his mind right before they'd left and told her to get her mare ready. She had been too happy to ask him why he'd reconsidered, and after a week, she could admit that while her whole body was sore at the end of each day, the fact that she got to ride instead of staying in a wheelhouse was the main reason why she was actually enjoying this. She'd gotten to talk with Gendry and with the Queen's brothers. Jaime was a great warrior who was never short of a war story to tell, she was fascinated by the battles he had fought. And Tyrion was hilarious. She suspected he toned down most of his stories when she was around, but she liked his sense of humor. In fact, she liked both Lannister brothers, though she did not care for the Queen, who was cold and jaded.

It could all have been close to perfect, weren't it for her worry about her brother. Bran had taken a fall while climbing one of Winterfell's highest towers a few days before they'd left, and while he wasn't dead, he had not woken up yet. She wished she could turn around and gallop back to him, as if her mere presence would bring him back from the strange land he seemed to be stuck in.

"Stop thinking so hard, you're giving me a headache."

The now familiar voice shook her out of her thoughts and she smiled.

"Someone has to do a little bit of thinking around here, and we all know we can't count on you for that."

"That was just uncalled for."

She could tell he was hiding a smile behind his pout, and hers widened before thoughts of Bran invaded her mind once again.

"I was thinking about my brother."

Gendry's expression turned somber. He didn't need to ask which one of her brothers.

"I'm sorry about what happened to him."

"That's your sixth apology. Did you somehow make him fall?"

He shook his head, like she'd known he would, but he still looked troubled, like she'd known he would. After the first two days she had spent with him, she'd thought he was carefree and fun to be around, and she'd liked the fact that he didn't treat her like a fragile little bird. But since Bran's accident, she'd found out that there was more to him than that. He felt a deep responsibility for what had happened, just because he had been there at the time. He'd expressed his sympathy with more conviction than some of Winterfell's own people, and he had seen right through her optimistic façade, which was why she felt comfortable talking about this with him. She didn't have to pretend that she thought it was going to be alright when what she really thought was that she would never see her brother again.

"I had Maester Luwin send a raven to King's Landing the day after your brother fell."

"Why?"

"I asked our Grand Maester to go to Winterfell to see if there was anything he could do. We should run into him in a few days."

"But, that's… you didn't have to do that."

The corner of his lips twitched up.

"Most people would just say thank you."

"I'm not most people," she replied automatically. Then she gave him a small smile and added, "But thank you."

"It was the least I could do."

"No, it wasn't. You really didn't have to do that," she repeated softly, trying to fight back the emotions building inside her.

She didn't think it would change anything. Maester Luwin was an amazing healer, and if anything could be done, he would do it. But Gendry's thoughtfulness was sweet. More than that. It was another proof that he cared about his people, that he'd do everything in his power to ensure their safety and, more to the point, that he could become a great king. Arya sighed at the thought. She still hadn't given him her answer, but she didn't have much of a choice, and the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that if she really had to get married, Gendry wasn't a bad choice. In fact, if he hadn't been the heir to the Iron Throne, she might have said yes already. They had become friends, and she now knew him well enough to be certain he wouldn't try to turn her into a perfect wife. Except that it wouldn't be up to him. Marrying him would mean becoming queen one day, and there would be a whole lot of people out there trying to turn her into a perfect wife for him.

Well, she just wouldn't let them, she decided suddenly. She could take anything anyone threw at her. She was Arya Stark. She was a wolf, as wild and free as the North. She would do what was asked of her every time she didn't have a choice, and she would be herself with her husband. It could be enough. It really could.

"I'll marry you," she blurted out, her decision made.

"What?"

She could understand his confusion. It was not like her train of thoughts had been easy to follow. How she'd gone from 'thank you for my brother' to 'let's get married' was still a bit of a mystery even to her, but somehow, it didn't feel as terrifying as it would have a few days ago.

"I'll marry you," she repeated.

He seemed to hesitate and she frowned. Wasn't it what he'd wanted?

"Listen Arya, I told you that you could take all the time you wanted to think about it."

"And I did," she answered, not seeing where he was going with this.

"I don't want you to agree to this because you feel like you owe me."

Understanding dawned on her and she laughed.

"That's not what this is about, stupid. I _am_ grateful for what you did, but that's not why I'm agreeing."

"Then why?"

"Because you were right. We get along fairly well. And being a queen can't be all bad. Actually, that's not true. It probably _is_ all bad, but… I think with you around, it could be almost bearable."

His smile was unsure and she rolled her eyes at him, which made him chuckle.

"Are you sure about this?"

"What do you want me to do? Shout it for everyone to hear?"

"That won't be necessary… Princess."

She glared at him.

"Don't start."

* * *

**GENDRY**

They were getting closer to King's Landing and he wasn't sure he was happy about it. Once there, he would hardly get any time for himself. They had just stopped for the night, and he decided he would take advantage of it and go for a walk on his own, since he wouldn't get many opportunities of being alone once they reached the capital. Besides, it was a beautiful evening, and he didn't feel like staying inside when he could be out in the setting sun.

He wasn't too far from the inn when he heard the shouts. At first, he didn't think anything of it, but then he recognized Arya's voice. Frowning, he ran towards the sounds and got there just in time to see Nymeria pinning his brother to the ground and biting his arm.

"Arya!"

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and he could read the fear, but also the determination in them. He rushed to her side. While Sansa was crying and screaming, Arya's anger was cold and hard. He put a tentative hand on her arm.

"Call her back."

"He threatened Micah!"

Micah must be the terrified boy who looked like he was about to wet his pants.

"It doesn't matter. Call her back or she'll get killed."

Truth be told, he wasn't sure Nymeria would survive the night anyway, not after this. But the sooner she released Joffrey, the easier it would be to prove that she could be controlled and that she wasn't as dangerous as she seemed. Arya seemed to understand, because she whispered the direwolf's name, and the beast instantly let go of Joffrey's arm to sit at Arya's feet. Gendry left Sansa to deal with his weeping brother and he led Arya further away, keeping an eye on Joffrey and Sansa. He already knew what was going to happen. His brother was going to lie about what had happened, their mother was going to pressure Sansa into lying too, and it would be Arya's word against theirs. There was only one way to avoid a bloodbath.

"Tell me what happened," he urged.

She told him the whole story.

When Arya was called in front of the king to tell him what had happened, Nymeria was by her side, and after she had told her version of the story, Gendry joined her. Joffrey called him a liar when he said that he had seen everything, but Gendry held his ground, explaining that he had been walking up to them and that he had been so shocked at what he had seen that he had stopped for a minute as he watched. Arya shot him a surprised glance as he lied to protect her, as if she hadn't expected him to support her against his brother.

Later that night, lying in his bed, he thought back on her incredulous look and he sighed. She didn't understand how much he hated Joffrey, and she certainly didn't understand how much he liked her. After three weeks on the road, he could say he knew her better than when they'd been in Winterfell, and there was absolutely nothing in her character that he didn't like. Her quick temper was challenging, her dry humor was amusing, her anger was stimulating, her hidden melancholy was touching, her refusal to play by the rules was something he not-so-secretly approved of, her wish to see the world was something he shared, her skills at archery, her devotion to her family and her tendency to speak her mind were things he admired, her love for her brothers was something he was starting to envy.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts and he stood up, quickly slipping into his breeches before opening the door. To say he was surprised when Arya slipped into his room without waiting for an invitation would have been an understatement. Of course, she had to be discreet, and waiting for him to get over his surprise and invite her in would have meant risk being seen by someone as she sneaked into the prince's chambers in the middle of the night. He closed the door and turned back to look at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to thank you for what you did today." He dismissed her thanks with a shrug of his shoulders. But she was not done. "I also want to know why you did it. If you had been caught lying to your father…"

"It wasn't that big of a risk. Joffrey was caught lying to him and he only got a firm disapproving glare."

"Because your mother defended him. Would she have done the same for you?"

He gave her a sad smile in answer. They both knew that Cersei didn't like him, though he had no idea why she favored Joffrey so much.

"You're half naked," Arya said suddenly, as if only realizing it.

"Right. Sorry."

He picked up his shirt and put it on. Once he was covered, she continued, "You had no reason to help me."

He gave her a disbelieving look.

"We're friends, Arya."

"Sansa's my sister and she chose your brother's side."

"Don't be too hard on her. She was under a lot of pressure."

"So were you. So was I, as a matter of fact."

"You're nothing like her. You're stronger. And though nothing's official yet, everybody knows who Joffrey has chosen. She's going to be his wife. She couldn't call him a liar in front of the whole court."

She was silent for a while, and when she spoke, her voice was so soft that he had to hold his breath to be able to hear the words.

"I don't want her to marry him."

"What are you saying?"

He had kept his face and voice as neutral as possible, but she saw right through him.

"No! I'm not changing my mind, don't worry. I said I would marry you and I will. But Joffrey… He's an awful human being, and while I don't like my sister very much right now, I don't think she deserves… I'm sorry, I know he's your brother, but…"

"I understand, believe me. You asked me why I lied for you. Well, it's because I don't trust him. I knew you were telling the truth, because this sounded exactly like something Joffrey would do. And I'm sorry about Sansa, but I don't think anything can be done."

"I know. If anything could be done, you'd do it."

It wasn't a question, and he couldn't help but smile a little at her faith in him. An idea came to him, but he hesitated for a few seconds before sharing it with her.

"There _is_ something I could do, but I'm not sure it would help."

"What is it?" she asked, almost breathless with hope.

"It's unusual for the eldest brother to get married after his siblings."

She immediately understood where he was going with this.

"Since we decided not to get married until you're king, Joffrey will have to wait too."

"I don't know if he will _have _to. It's unusual, not unheard of. But I could talk to my father and argue that the royal family should set an example."

"That's perfect! Why did you say you're not sure it would help?"

He winced.

"Because Joffrey won't like it, and when he does marry your sister, she's going to suffer for it."

"More than she would suffer if she married him now?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe… Maybe if it takes long enough, Joffrey will tire of her and break off the engagement."

"It's the best we can hope for. I take it you want me to try and talk to my father?"

"Yes, please. I know you don't…"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. He knew what she was going to say. He didn't like asking anything of his father, the king thought asking for favors was a weakness, and he himself preferred to do things on his own whenever he could. But it didn't matter, not this time. Sensing that she was about to thank him, he decided to change the subject.

"What you did today was very brave. You didn't know that I would help you, yet you told the truth when it was your word against a prince's."

"I've been told I have more courage than sense."

"Good. King's Landing is full of people who have more sense than courage, and of people who possess neither."

"I don't think I'm going to fit in."

He nodded. It was one of the reasons he'd been attracted to her in the first place.

"You'll be fine, though. And if you're not, you can always throw food at everyone you don't like."

"The city would be out of food within a week."

"You won't be completely friendless."

"I know. I'll have you."

"Yes, but it's not what I meant. My uncles like you. Jaime doesn't think you would be a good queen, but he likes you. And Tyrion thinks you're exactly what the realm needs."

"Really?"

"He's right, you know."

"I don't think so."

"I do."

He really did. She might be impetuous and reckless, but as hard as she was trying to hide it, she was also caring and fiercely protective of those she loved. In his opinion, it was more important than good manners and sewing skills.

He half expected her to hit him for being too serious. Instead, she rose to her tiptoes and softly kissed his cheek in an unusual display of affection. Then she pulled away and shook her head in embarrassment, walking towards the door.

He had absolutely no excuse for what he did next. The day had been eventful and emotionally draining, he shouldn't have put any more pressure on her. The sensible thing to do would have been to let her go, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back to him. He leaned down slowly, giving her every opportunity to push him away, but she didn't. He chose to believe that it was because she wanted this as much as he did rather than because the shock had paralyzed her. He pressed his lips to hers, soft and undemanding. There was a very good chance this was her first kiss, and he didn't want to scare her away.

When she placed her hands on his shoulders for balance, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and she smiled against his mouth. Taking that for an invitation, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip. She tentatively opened her mouth and he deepened the kiss. Her hands left his shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies closer together. She was both eager and hesitant, letting him take the lead, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that he'd better burn this in his memory, because if he knew her, it wouldn't be long before she fought for control of their kisses. He smiled at the thought. He kept things slow for a few minutes, and when he felt her demand more, he broke the kiss off, not trusting himself to do the honorable thing if she kept pressing herself against him.

She didn't run away from him, which he took as a good sign. She stayed in his embrace and raised her eyes to meet his, hers dazed and clouded.

"That was… unexpected."

He lifted an eyebrow at that.

"Was it?"

"Yes. I didn't think you…"

She coughed in embarrassment, her cheeks turning red, and he finished for her.

"Wanted you?"

"Yes. I mean, I knew you would have to… err… want me eventually, but…"

He laughed softly and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, silencing her.

"It's the first time I've ever seen you embarrassed."

She punched his shoulder.

"It's not funny."

He smiled a little, but, knowing there was real doubt behind her playfulness, he turned serious again after a second.

"You're a beautiful woman, Arya. Of course I want you. I thought it went without saying."

"Well, it didn't," she mumbled.

"I'll say it again if you want me to."

"Or you could show me."

"As my lady commands."

She punched him again just as their lips met.

* * *

**EDDARD**

He seemed to be the only one who still hated King's Landing as much as when they'd first arrived. Sansa was starting to have doubts about Joffrey's gentleness, but she loved being a southern lady, and the capital was everything she had dreamed it would be; beautiful dresses, jewelry, banquets, tournaments, other ladies to chat with… She was more at ease here than she had ever been in Winterfell. Arya hated the castle life and tried to dodge her obligations as often as she could, but she had found some level of happiness here and he suspected most of it had to do with Prince Gendry. While they hardly got to spend any time together, Ned would have had to be blind not to notice the way her daughter's eyes lit up whenever her betrothed managed to join her for a stroll into the city, or the way the prince seemed to forget everything else for a few seconds every time Arya walked into the room he was in.

There was no doubt about it, after two months in King's Landing, Ned was the only Stark who was still as miserable as he had been when Robert had named him his Hand.

Though he blamed part of it on having to deal with the Lannisters, most of his unhappiness was due to his investigation about Jon Arryn's death. The more he learned, the more certain he was that the late Hand's passing had not been natural. Not only did he fear for his own safety, something he had accepted as soon as he'd agreed to come here, he was also very worried about the safety of the realm. He still had no idea what Jon Arryn had discovered, but he felt that it was something dangerous enough to shake the very foundations of Westeros.

How was one man supposed to ensure the safety of seven kingdoms?

"You worry too much, Lord Stark. You will die of concern before you die of old age."

He held back a sigh at the all too familiar voice, and he turned to face another one of his reasons for hating King's Landing, already dreading the arrogant smirk that would greet him. Sure enough, it was there, twitching at the corner of the man's thin lips.

"Most honorable men die by the sword, Lord Baelish. Or they are poisoned, it would seem."

"Ah," Littlefinger said knowingly. "Still doubting Jon Arryn's death was natural, I see."

His suspicions were no longer a secret, if they had ever been one, he could nod without fear. The master of coin walked up to him. He only stopped once he was too close for comfort. Ned raised his chin, not quite challenging, but prepared for whatever came next.

"When was the last time you visited a brothel, Lord Stark?"

_That_, he had not been prepared for. His confusion must have shown, because Petyr Baelish smiled and motioned for Ned to follow him. He hesitated, but eventually curiosity got the better of him and he fell in step with Littlefinger, who went on as he walked. "I've been told you have taken an interest in a certain book Lord Arryn was reading before his untimely death."

He had stopped trying to figure out how Littlefinger knew the things he knew. The book was sitting in his bedchambers, waiting for Ned to solve this new mystery. He was sure it was of importance, but he did not know why yet.

"Do you know anything about it?"

Baelish gave him an enigmatic smile as they exited the castle, and he stayed silent for the rest of the way through town. When Ned saw where he had led him, he stopped and turned toward him, his eyebrows raised in question.

"I thought you might want to meet one of the last persons Jon Arryn spoke to."

He could not trust the man and he knew it, but once again, his curiosity was stronger than his sense of self-preservation, and he followed him into the brothel, making sure no one saw him enter such a building.

A few minutes of conversation with the young whore who was so obviously in love with Robert told him absolutely nothing, but one look at the infant's big blue eyes was like a revelation. He all but ran back to the castle, climbing the stairs to his bedchambers as fast as he could and immediately opening the book. Trying to catch his breath, he read the words even though he already knew what they would tell him. As far back as records went, every single Baratheon child had had black hair and blue eyes. His thoughts immediately went to Gendry, who looked so much like his father, before they drifted to Joffrey, who looked so much like… like a Lion. Just like Myrcella and Tommen.

He would need to find the others. Sweet little Barra could not be the only one of Robert's bastards out there. But the others would only serve as proof for… well, for whoever he decided to share his information with. His own mind already knew what there was to know. There was only one way to explain why some of Robert's children shared so many of his features when others didn't look anything like him. The others quite simply weren't his.

He slumped down in his chair, trying to make sense of what he had just found out.

Was this Jon Arryn's secret? Was this the truth he had died for?

If it was, then there was only one person who could have benefited from the late Hand's death. If Jon had threatened the queen, if he had told her that he was going to go to Robert with his findings, she could have been desperate enough to kill him.

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose to try and keep the incoming headache under control as another thought suddenly hit him.

This secret was not just worth killing for, it was worth trying to kill a young boy for.

Bran.

He had to have seen something he shouldn't have.

It meant that Cersei's lover had been with her in Winterfell. There was only one man he could think of who had looked like he had her attention.

Robert's wife was not only adulterous, she was incestuous.

If the king found out about this, he'd have the queen and her offspring killed. While he did not care much for Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were sweet children who did not deserve Robert's wrath.

Yet, he couldn't _not_ tell his friend about this.

As if his head wasn't already swarming with too many options and aftermaths to contemplate, a new thought suddenly found its way into his mind.

Cersei hated Gendry, probably because _he_ was Robert's. She had always favored Joffrey, everyone knew it, and it was even more obvious to Ned now that he had lived at court for a couple of months. And the queen was ambitious. Power was the only thing she understood. He had no doubt she would want power for the son she loved rather than for the one she was forced to tolerate.

Robert was the only reason she hadn't acted yet. It was one thing to poison an old man who had probably not been too far from death anyway, but if anything like that happened to his young and healthy heir, the king would get suspicious.

Ned had to consider the possibility that Cersei was just waiting for Robert to pass away before she got rid of Gendry and handed the crown to Joffrey.

There was only one thing he could do to prevent this.

He called for Jory and asked him to place as many guards as he could in front of Myrcella, Tommen, and Joffrey's bedchambers. He had to protect them from Robert's fury. The Gods knew it would be brutal. Once the captain of his household guard had taken the necessary steps, he tucked the book under his arm and walked to the king's chambers. His friend was naked and still half asleep when he opened the door. Ned gave him a few minutes to get dressed, and then he sat across from him at the small writing table.

"What was so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?" the king demanded to know, clearly annoyed.

"I uncovered the truth Jon Arryn died for."

There was a moment of silence as his words sank in.

"Well? What is it?"

"Robert, it's…" He paused, trying to think of a way to express his thoughts that would not end up with Robert starting a war, but then he decided that way probably didn't exist. "It's Joffrey. He's Jaime Lannister's bastard. As are Myrcella and Tommen."

There was no trace of the outburst he had expected. Instead, Robert ran a hand across his face and let out a weary sigh.

"I know." He was so taken aback that his mouth fell open and no sound came out of it. Seeing his shock, Robert continued, "I've known for a while."

"But… I… Why… I mean…"

Usually, he was more articulate than that, but in his defense, what he had just learned would have baffled anyone. Luckily, Robert understood what he was trying to ask.

"Why don't I kill them all?"

"Yes."

The king sighed again and stood up to pour some wine into two cups. Ned accepted the one he handed to him and for once, he gratefully took a few sips of the liquid.

"Because it would leave the Iron Throne with no heir."

"But Gendry…"

"Is not my rightful heir."

He'd thought nothing could surprise him anymore. He'd been wrong. There was no doubt in his mind that Gendry was Robert's son, the similarities were too obvious. Seeming to understand his perplexity, his friend explained, "His mother worked in a tavern. I'd just won the Iron Throne when I fathered him. He was born a few days before Cersei lost our first child. His own mother died in childbirth. I was young and I needed an heir in order to keep my allies happy and my enemies far away. I was also naïve. I thought that Cersei loved me, that she would do this for me. So…"

"You switched the boys," Ned completed, his voice weak. "And Cersei is using it against you. If anything happens to her or her children…"

"Then the truth will come out."

"And the Iron Throne will be left empty, which will lead to a new war."

A bastard could not be king. Robert couldn't even officially legitimize Gendry now, because then everyone would know that he had lied for almost 19 years. The way Ned saw it, there was absolutely nothing that could be done to counteract Cersei's plan. He suspected Robert had thought about it long and hard, and the fact that the Lannisters' bastards were still alive was proof enough that he'd come up with nothing. Worse, when Robert died, nothing would stand in Cersei's way. She would reveal the truth about Gendry, or more likely have him killed, since Ned had no doubt that the black-haired boy would have too many allies for her liking even once everyone knew that he was a bastard. Joffrey would wear the crown before Gendry's dead body was even cold. The Lannisters were powerful enough to bury the truth of Joffrey's birth so deep that no one would ever question his claim.

And even if someone did, what then? Stannis was next in the line of succession, and after him was Renly. Stannis was not well-liked, there would be many battles fought and a lot of blood spilled before his enemies were defeated. Besides, he had no son and probably never would, so that would only mean pushing the problem back a few years. As for Renly, everybody knew he was even less likely than Stannis to produce an heir. The Stag line would die with Robert and his brothers, and the Gods knew how many pretenders would fight for the Iron Throne then.

However Ned tried to look at it, the realm was doomed.

* * *

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: Rating's up to M. It's nothing too graphic, but please be aware that there is a sexual situation involving a minor. If you don't like that kind of things, you can just skip Gendry's POV and jump to Ned's. **

**Once again, thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and alerted!**

* * *

**GENDRY**

He winced in sympathy when Syrio Forel managed to disarm Arya and hit her shoulder hard with his wooden sword, but she didn't let it unsettle her. She dodged the next attack and quickly picked up her training weapon. He watched, fascinated, as she fell into her water dancer's stance and attacked. He couldn't help but smile proudly when she surprised the First Sword of Braavos with a quick strike and the foreigner had to take a step back. However, she was so distracted with throwing him a bright smile after this victory that Syrio had no trouble disarming her once again, and Gendry had to laugh at her indignant growl. Across the room, Nymeria raised her head, making sure Arya was in no real danger before going back to her nap.

He loved watching her practice. It had been going on for six months, since the Starks had arrived in King's Landing. Since there was no one here who would agree to fight with her except for him, and since he was usually too busy to do so, her father had hired Syrio Forel to teach her how to handle a sword properly. He had to admit, the braavosi style suited her. Though she had only managed to hit her instructor a handful of times in six months, she was graceful, quick and stronger than anyone would give her credit for.

The lesson ended and he waited for her to join him. Once Syrio had left, she sat down on the floor next to him, leaning against the wall, and she stole the apple he had barely touched, taking a healthy bite before handing it back to him. He chuckled when he noticed she'd managed to eat half the fruit in one mouthful and he bumped her shoulder in retaliation.

"Hey! That's no way to treat a future queen."

He was so glad that she was able to joke about this that he just laughed again and gave her a quick kiss, tasting the sweet juice on her lips. She smiled against his mouth, and what had just been a way to express an innocent affection turned passionate when her hand climbed up his chest to grab his shoulder and pull him closer. Instead of complying, he grabbed her by the waist, he swiftly pushed her so that she was lying on her back and he ignored her surprised squeal to position himself on top of her. When his hand found the front laces of her shirt, she looked up at him with curiosity. They had shared plenty of kisses ever since that first night on the King's Road, but he had never let things progress any further. She was expected to stay a maiden until her wedding night, and while he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her, he couldn't, not yet. He could not risk anyone finding out and using it to endanger their engagement, not when this marriage meant more to him than he'd ever expected. He had no doubt someone like his mother would use every single fault against them.

This explained why Arya seemed puzzled by his initiative. But she was too desirable teasing him, laughing with him and kissing him like that, her cheeks flushed and her chest still heaving from hours of fencing. There was only so much he could take. He untied the last knot, but she stopped him before he could take her shirt off.

"Someone might come in."

"Right." He turned to the direwolf who was sleeping with one eye open on the other side of the room. "Nymeria!" Her head perked up at her name. "Door."

She instantly got up to trot toward the door Syrio Forel had left ajar and she left the room, giving the panel a nudge with her head once she was on the other side. The door closed, and Gendry knew that the direwolf would stand guard outside until either he or her mistress got out. He smiled and turned back to Arya. She was watching him with a mixture of nervousness, need and anticipation that made it hard for him to remember he was supposed to be taking this slow. He leaned down and she eagerly met his lips in a demanding kiss while his hand took care of her shirt and smallclothes. Soon, she was half-naked beneath him. His mouth left hers to travel down her throat and his tongue darted out to taste her skin, bringing a contented sigh to her lips. The sound turned into a moan when his hand found her breast and his thumb brushed her nipple. She squirmed, her body begging him to repeat the movement. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking and biting lightly. She gasped at the sensation and ran her fingers through his hair, trying to keep him in place. But he had another destination in mind. He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. Even though she was lying on the cold floor, her skin was scalding hot and glistening with perspiration, though part of it might have had something to do with her fencing lesson. Next time, he'd have to make sure she was well rested, so that he could see if he could make her this hot all on his own. He smiled against her navel at the thought. Given the way she was responding to his touch, he had no doubt he could… if the fire didn't consume _him_ first.

When he reached her breeches, he raised his head, looking at her face as he undid the laces that held it to her body. She wriggled her hips to help him get rid of her last remaining clothes. Her voice was low when she said, "I thought you said we had to wait."

He kissed his way up her body, avoiding the areas where she most wanted to be touched, ending with a sweet kiss on her lips before he replied.

"We do. But there are plenty of things we can do that are less… compromising."

To illustrate, he slipped a finger inside her. A strangled gasp fell from her lips and he waited for her to get used to the feeling before he started moving slowly, carefully searching her face for any sign of discomfort. When he only saw shock and pleasure, he added a second finger and he thrust a little harder, reveling in the way she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. Her eyes stayed open, boring into his, and he found that just as enticing as her shivering body. He picked up his speed, her answering groan telling him she was close already. His thumb found the small bundle of nerve and pressed on it hard, and it was all it took for her to fall apart beneath him. He kept thrusting his fingers into her, helping her ride out the waves of pleasure until they slowly died down. He slipped his fingers out of her as she tried to catch her breath and he pressed soft kisses against her collarbone until she pulled him to her lips and kissed him lazily.

"That was fun," she panted when they parted.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he answered with a grin.

She punched his shoulder.

"That's for being so cocky."

"Hey! That's no way to treat a future king."

She laughed and he gave her one last kiss before reluctantly standing up. He held a hand out to help her up and saw her blush when she took in the bulge in his pants.

"What about you?" she asked shyly.

"Next time. Right now, there's a council meeting my father wants me to attend. Please, get dressed. I don't want to walk in looking like that."

She chuckled and put on her clothes while he tried to get his body under control. When she picked up her wooden sword, she noticed the package he'd brought with him and forgotten about.

"What's that?"

"Oh. That's for you."

"A present?"

"It's your nameday," he reminded her.

"You mean that this," she motioned towards the spot where she'd been lying a few minutes ago, "wasn't my present?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"That was as much for me as it was for you." He picked up the package and handed it to her. "Here. I didn't want to give this to you during tonight's feast."

"Why not?"

"Open it."

She tucked her wooden sword in her belt and took the package, the weight obviously taking her by surprise. She took off the dark cloth that was enveloping her present. When she saw the sheath, she raised her eyes to meet his, not quite daring to hope. He gave her an encouraging nod and she finished unwrapping it. Her eyes widened at the sight of the hilt. He'd had it forged into a growling direwolf's head. She unsheathed the sword and gasped.

"Valyrian steel," she murmured reverently.

"How very improper of a lady to notice," he teased.

She must really like her present, because she didn't even punch him for that. Instead, she studied the blade and carefully held it in front of her, getting into her water dancer's stance and trying out the balance. After a few minutes, she turned her attention back to him, her eyes shining with what she would deny were unshed tears if he asked.

"Gendry, that's… thank you."

"What are you going to call it?"

She put the sword back in its sheath and looked at the hilt again.

"Fang, of course."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, but he pushed her back before she could deepen it.

"Please. I really do have a council meeting in a few minutes."

She smiled and clasped the sheath around her waist, noting that it fit perfectly on her small frame.

"I can see why you couldn't give it to me tonight. Although it could have been amusing. The future queen receiving a sword for her fifteenth nameday… I can only imagine Sansa's face."

He smiled as they walked together to the door. Just before he opened it, he felt her hand on his forearm and he stopped to look at her, surprised by how serious she suddenly looked.

"What's wrong?"

She hesitated, obviously torn about what she wanted to say. This was highly unusual. Ever since they'd met, they'd made a point of being honest with each other, they'd shared more than a few embarrassing stories, not to mention confessions he would never have made in front of anyone else and a couple of weak moments she had let him witness. He didn't see what she could still be embarrassed about. Still, he didn't ask, letting her make up her mind.

"Gendry… could you renounce your claim to the throne?"

He winced as he understood her hesitation. He'd suspected that they would need to have this conversation sooner or later, but he'd been hoping for later, although he should have known it would be sooner. The feelings that had developed between them had been as unexpected as they were intense, and while they'd initially agreed not to get married until he was king, these feelings made it hard to wait. If it had been up to him, he'd have wedded her months ago. And he knew that if she had not been so opposed to the idea of becoming a princess, she'd have wedded him weeks ago. Though there was also the matter of Sansa and Joffrey's betrothal to consider. His father had agreed with him and he had told Joffrey that he was to wait until after his older brother's wedding. If they got married now, nothing would protect Arya's sister from her betrothed.

"Technically, I could. But…"

"It would mean leaving it to Joffrey," she finished for him, her voice small.

He nodded and opened the door for her before following her out in the hallway, Nymeria falling in step beside them.

"If Tommen was next in the line of succession, I would do it in a heartbeat. I love you Arya, and I'd do almost anything for you, but not this. I can't. Can you imagine what this realm and its people would have to go through? Joffrey would ruin them before winter came, and…"

His voice trailed off when he realized that she was not by his side anymore. He turned around and saw that she stood frozen in place and that she was staring at him. He closed the gap between them and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, silently asking her what was wrong.

"You… love me?"

He had said that, hadn't he? Oh well, it might not have been the most romantic way to get it out in the open, but it didn't mean it wasn't true. He gave her a small smile.

"Yes, I love you. And correct me if I'm wrong, but we wouldn't be having this conversation if you didn't love me."

"It could be the gratitude at my present talking. But you're not wrong."

It was the closest she would ever come to saying it and he knew it. His smile widened before he went back to the topic at hand.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I wish there was…"

"I know. Just… Give me a little more time. I think I'm getting used to the idea. I mean… 'Princess Arya' doesn't sound too bad, does it? As for Sansa… we'll think of something."

Her voice sounded both hesitant and resolute, something only she could pull off that well. He was about to answer when a growl followed by a soft thud caught their attention and they both turned to look behind them. Gendry's eyes widened at what he saw, but before he had a chance to understand what was going on, he felt himself being pushed, he tripped, and his head hit the wall so hard that his vision turned black.

* * *

**EDDARD**

King Robert was dead.

He couldn't have hidden his shock if he'd tried. As it was, he didn't even try. The man he'd always thought of as a brother was dead. And he could hardly believe it, but this was actually the least of his concerns right now.

His main concern was survival. His own, mostly because if he died, no one would be able to protect Prince… _King_ Gendry from the Queen. King Gendry's survival. His daughters' survival.

How was he supposed to ensure nothing would happen to them when he had no idea what Cersei's next move was going to be?

The squire who had galloped all the way to King's Landing to give him the news was looking at him expectantly and Ned felt a brief jolt of satisfaction at the thought that assigning the lad to Robert when he'd learnt the truth about the queen's children four months ago had been a good move on his part. His friend had died during a hunting party, taken down by a boar, the rest of his men were on their way to bring his body back to the capital. They would be here before nightfall. The fact that he'd made sure Robert's squire was loyal to him meant that he'd gotten the news before the queen, which gave him some time to think of a plan.

He paid the lad for his silence and sent him away, immediately calling for Jory. The captain of his household guard was there in less than a minute.

"You're the only one I can trust with this, but I need to know if…"

"I'd give my life for you, my lord."

"I'm afraid this is exactly what I'm about to ask of you."

"Then this is what I will do." Ned sighed. There was little chance his plan was going to work, and he hated having to ask this of Jory, but it was the only thing he had. Walking to his writing table, he wrote a few words and handed the parchment to the man he'd come to think of as one of his closest friends. Jory read it, and his eyes widened. "Queen Cersei and her three youngest children, suspected of treason? You're arresting them, my lord?"

"Take as many men as you need and act as discreetly as possible. Do not let Varys or Lord Baelish know what you are up to. I also need you to find Prince Gendry and my daughters. Bring them to my chambers and stay with them until I return."

"Yes, my lord."

When Jory seemed to hesitate and didn't leave right away to follow his order, Ned asked, "What is it?"

"What of the Kingslayer, my lord? He won't be happy about this and the Kingsguard will follow him."

"Leave Jaime Lannister to me."

Taking care of Cersei's lover had been the next step of his plan anyway. As soon as Jory left, Ned left his quarters to look for him. He found him in one of the hallways.

"Lord Stark. What brings you here?"

"I have matters to discuss with you, Ser Jaime."

"Of course. Why don't we…"

"Stay here," Ned completed, his voice as hard as steel.

The Kingslayer lifted an eyebrow, stunned. Ned knew why. He'd always been courteous if wary, hearing him use that kind of tone had to be unsettling, which was exactly why he'd done it. Jaime Lannister quickly recovered and gave him a small smile.

"As you wish, my lord. What can I do for you?"

He took a deep breath. He was about to reveal almost everything he knew and he wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he had no other choice if he wanted Jaime Lannister to keep quiet about what _he_ knew.

"You can keep doing absolutely nothing. King Gendry will sit on the Iron Throne, and you and your family will not do a thing to prevent it. I don't know who else knows about the circumstances of his birth, but whoever does, tell them to keep quiet."

It wasn't exactly true. He knew that Pycelle knew everything, Robert had told him as much. Since the pregnancy had been complicated and since the child had been so important, the Grand Maester had been the one to deliver Gendry 19 years ago, something the King had almost instantly regretted. Pycelle's allegiance was wavering at best, and while some people might have been willing to believe Robert over Cersei if she'd decided to tell the truth, no one would have doubted the Grand Maester's word.

Not a muscle moved on his foe's face, but a flash of something passed in his eyes. Surprise, anger, and a hint of respect at his forwardness. Just like Ned had expected, he addressed the unusual title first.

"_King_ Gendry?"

"King Robert is dead, Ser Jaime."

"Hm. How unfortunate."

"Yes, I'm sure you're just as heartbroken as I am, but we have other matters to worry about."

"Ah, yes. Like Gendry's illegitimacy."

"You will not say a word of it, to anyone."

"Or what, Lord Stark? You'll kill me? Like you implied earlier, other people know about it, there's nothing you can do to keep this secret… well, a secret."

Ned did his best Littlefinger impression, his smile part knowing, part menacing.

"Isn't there?"

"I'm afraid not."

"How about this: if the truth ever comes out, your sister will not survive her imprisonment." Rage replaced everything else in Jaime Lannister's eyes and his hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword. Ned gave him a disapproving look, and before he could unsheathe his weapon, he warned, "I would hate for you to find out what would become of your lover and _children_ if anything were to happen to me or my family."

He hoped his enemy would not see through him. While his threat towards Cersei's life was genuine, he didn't want to have to harm Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. Still, he was hoping that even if he did realize that Ned was lying about his intentions towards them, Jaime valued his sister's life enough for the threat to work. After a few tense minutes, the Kingslayer smiled an almost pleasant smile.

"I guess you win this round, Lord Stark. But remember, a Lannister always pays his debts… In fact, I believe this one is being paid as we speak."

He turned on his heels and left, leaving Ned alone with his rising panic.

* * *

**ARYA**

She'd reacted faster than Gendry, and for that she was grateful. He would have tried to protect her and probably gotten himself killed in the process. Now she was the one who was going to die, but maybe she could at least hold the assailant back long enough for someone to realize what was happening and get here in time to save Gendry.

When she'd turned to see what the dull sound had been and seen Nymeria's body lying on the floor behind her, a dart barely visible in the fur of her neck, her eyes had automatically travelled upwards to find where the weapon had come from. She hadn't been surprised to find a man in the hallway, though she had no idea how he had gotten here since there was no way in this way except for the window and they were in one of the highest places of the castle. He'd been about to shoot a tiny crossbow, the same one that had just taken down her direwolf and, seeing he was aiming it at Gendry, she'd shoved the prince as hard as she could, the strength of the push taking even her by surprise. She'd just wanted to get him out of harm's way, but she had pushed too hard, he had tripped on Nymeria's body, his head had hit the wall, and he'd slid down to the floor, unconscious.

Now the stranger directed the crossbow at her, so she did the only thing she could do: she threw herself at him, tackling him to the ground. The weapon fell out of reach. The man pushed her off him so hard that she fell backwards, but she quickly got back to her feet and she saw that he had just unsheathed a sword. The shock in his eyes told her that he had not expected he would need to use it. He'd thought this was going to be an easy mission. He hadn't counted on her reacting as fast as she had. Only Nymeria had looked like a real threat to him when she'd growled, alerting them of his presence, which was why he'd killed her first.

In the split second it took her to analyze the situation, she also remembered about the unfamiliar weight at her waist and, with a predatory smile, she brandished her brand new sword.

No one but her father and Gendry knew about her lessons with Syrio, they hadn't told anyone because it was highly improper of a lady to learn how to fight, but today, this secrecy was coming in handier than they'd ever thought. This man had obviously dismissed her as an inoffensive pawn, and while she had no illusion about her chances of surviving this encounter, this misconception of his might end up being what would save Gendry's life.

The man raised his eyebrows when he saw her slide into the water dancer's stance. She was not surprised when he mirrored her position. The assassin was skilled enough to have taken down a direwolf before the animal had had a chance to tear his throat open, there was only one explanation. She had heard many tales about the Faceless Men, she knew that they were trained in Braavos, so she knew what to expect. She warded off the first attack so easily that she knew right away he had just been testing her, so she didn't make the mistake of thinking the whole fight would be as easy.

Apparently surprised by the amount of skill she had just displayed, he took a step back before he attacked again, which gave her just enough time to catch her breath and call for the guards. She didn't think it would be much use, they were probably too far away to hear her, but she had to try.

As she dodged another, more powerful, assault, she heard a groan behind her. She didn't let it distract her, but she quickly sent a silent prayer to the old gods and the new that he would wake up in the next few seconds. He was unarmed, but if they fought two against one, it would vastly improve their chances of getting out of this alive.

"Arya."

His voice was weak and confused and, after forcing her opponent to take a step back, she risked a quick glance in Gendry's direction, noting his eyes were open but unfocused. She turned her attention back to the fight after a fraction of a second, but even such a short inattention almost cost her her life. She didn't make a sound when the blade pierced her right side. She just gritted her teeth and focused on the next attack.

This was when Gendry fully woke up. She felt his presence next to her before she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. He waited for a pause in the duel to grab the wooden sword that was dangling at her side and he swiftly swung it at the man's head. The assassin bent down just in time, and Arya took advantage of his distraction to try and plunge her blade in his heart, but his sword deflected hers and she only reached his arm. Still, it was better than nothing. It finally felt like he could be beaten.

Gendry must have thought the same thing, because as soon as she took her blade out of the man's flesh, he hit the injury hard with the wooden sword, and their opponent grunted in pain.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind them and she screamed for help. When he realized that the guards were coming, the assassin took a step back and analyzed the situation. Gendry tried to stop him when he jumped out of the window, but Arya called the prince back. Even if they managed to capture him alive, he wouldn't talk. It wasn't worth the risk. Besides, she needed Gendry here with her, not running after the man who had tried to kill them. She was about to tell him so when her legs buckled under her and she fell down on her knees, her left hand letting go of her sword and going to the injury at her side to try and keep the pain at bay. Blood tainted her fingers quicker than she'd thought possible, and she realized that she had been hurt more badly than she'd initially thought. The sense of danger and the need to fight for their lives had kept her from noticing how deep the blade had gone up until this moment, but she was now very aware of the fact that she had little chance of surviving such a wound.

"Arya!"

Gendry was suddenly kneeling next to her, his arms wrapped around her, his hand covering hers as he yelled for the guards to hurry up. He helped her lie down on the floor, and through her blurred vision the only thing she could see was his face. She gave him a weak smile, because death had never scared her and because if she had to die, then she wanted the last thing she ever saw of this world to be these clear blue eyes. He was alive, his arms were strong and familiar around her, his body was warm, and his skin was soft as his fingers intertwined with hers. It wasn't such a bad way to go.

"Arya… Arya, don't die. Don't you dare. Not now. Not ever."

His voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was drifting away or because he had trouble speaking over his sobs. The thought of her own imminent death left her feeling strangely detached, but his tears pierced through her heart as surely as the blade had pierced through her flesh. She tried to lift a hand to stroke his cheek, but she barely managed to move her fingers. His hold on her hand tightened as her strength seemed to desert her, as if he was trying to give her some of his.

She'd always thought dying would hurt, but she was just tired.

So tired.

"I need you. Stay with me."

She wanted to. She really wanted to. But it didn't look like she had a say in the matter. She felt her eyelids drop, but she could rest for only a second before a sharp pain jolted her awake. Her eyes flew open and focused on him, her shock even greater than the sting on her cheek. Had he just slapped her?

"Arya, listen to me. I need you to stay awake. I need you to stay _alive_. What do we say to the God of Death?"

She had just enough energy left in her to smile faintly at the familiar words, but not enough to give him the answer he was waiting for. She wasn't sure if he actually spoke the next words out loud or if she just heard them in her head, her dying mind trying to hold onto his voice and warmth for as long as it could.

_Not today._

* * *

**TBC…**

**I know. Mean. I hate cliffhangers too… except when I know what's going to happen next *insert evil laugh here***


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's a bit shorter than the other chapters, I didn't see the point in dragging things out. Again, thanks to everyone who stayed with me for this little AU story, I'm really glad you guys seemed to enjoy it! **

* * *

**GENDRY**

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, slept, or bathed. He'd been in this room for what felt like forever, his hand holding Arya's like it was the only thing keeping her here with him. He hadn't left her side for a single moment, not even to pay his respects to his father. Lady Sansa had been with him every day, reading, sewing, praying, and telling him a few stories about their childhood in Winterfell, and though he occasionally wished that she would just let him be miserable on his own, most of the time, he was grateful for the company.

There was a knock on the door. He knew who was on the other side, and he didn't bother answering, knowing that Lord Stark would come in anyway. Sansa however whispered the invitation, and her father entered the room. Gendry gave him a silent nod and turned his attention back to Arya, hoping that the Hand of the King, _his_ Hand, would give him another few seconds before he told him whatever it was he had come to say. He did, but Gendry still sighed at the words he had expected.

"You need to attend your father's funeral, Your Grace."

"Not until she wakes up."

"You know we can't wait any longer. The realm needs this. They need to say goodbye to Robert, and more importantly, they need to see _you_. They're beginning to think you're dead too."

Varys had told him about the whispers. Some people were spreading the rumor that the attempted murder had been successful and that this was why no one had seen him since the tragic events that had unfolded at the castle. It seemed things were getting out of control out there, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the irrational certainty that if he left this room, he would never see Arya again.

It had been a week since she had almost given her life to save his, and she had yet to wake up from her unnatural sleep. The Grand Maester had told them that it was her body's way of dealing with the pain and of repairing itself, and Gendry had to believe him. Sometimes, he could even allow himself a fleeting moment of hope since this was what Maester Luwin had said about Bran after his fall, and the boy had eventually woken up, though he would never be able to walk again. Arya's head and back hadn't been injured, so there was little risk of the same thing happening to her. According to the healer, all they had to do was wait, and she would wake up whenever her body was ready to face the world again.

Though no one had said the words out loud, the question had been written all over their faces. When would that be?

Pycelle was rather optimistic and thought that a few more days would probably be enough.

Still, Gendry would have given anything to see those silver eyes looking at him, if only for a moment. She could sleep all she wanted after that, he just needed some proof that she was still in there somewhere.

"Give me a few more days."

Lord Stark looked like he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth, slowly shook his head and left without another word.

"You do realize how selfish you're being, don't you?"

It was the harsh tone rather than the words themselves that made him tear his gaze away from the woman he loved to look at her sister. He had never heard Lady Sansa speak like that to anyone. In the months he'd known her, he'd seen her happy, angry, sweet, sad, fearful, brave, but never _cold_. When he didn't answer, both because he was too shocked and because he had no idea what she was talking about, she explained, "She's his daughter. You're not the only one who almost lost her. You're not the only one who still might. You're making him rule in your place when he's just as devastated as you are. He deserves better. He deserves to be here by her side just as much as you do. But he can't, because you're too engrossed in your own pain to notice his, or to do what needs to be done."

She focused on her needlework after that, and there was nothing he could do but watch Arya while he tried to come to terms with the fact that Sansa was right. He'd done absolutely nothing in the last few days, he didn't even really know what was going on in his kingdom. Lord Stark had told him everything he knew about his birth and about Cersei, he had told him he'd arrested her and her children in order to make sure the Lannisters wouldn't be able to take the throne from him, but that was about all he knew. He had no idea what the people knew of the situation, he didn't know if the threat was definitely over or if he should expect an attack led by Jaime, and to be completely honest, he wasn't sure he'd make such a great king. Not when, as Sansa as pointed out, he was so selfish. What kind of king spent his days feeling sorry for himself when his people needed him?

"You can do better than that, you know. You can _be_ better than that." Sansa said after a while, her voice soft again.

He smiled at her attempt at encouragement, but there was no real emotion behind it. While he was thankful, they had never exchanged more than pleasantries, she didn't really know him. Therefore, her positive opinion of him did nothing to reassure him.

"How would you know?"

"She believes in you," she whispered with a small wave towards Arya, her faith in her sister obvious in spite of their many differences.

"Maybe she misjudged me."

She gave him a sweet, knowing smile.

"She never does. One more day, Your Grace. I'm giving you another day to grieve and pray, and then I'm throwing you out of here myself."

* * *

**EDDARD**

He was so surprise to see the king take his seat at the council meeting that he instantly asked him what was wrong, his heart stopping at the thought that something might have happened to Arya. But Gendry gave him a small smile, assured him that everything was all right, and asked him to tell him everything that had happened during his absence. Ned sat back down, still slightly stunned. When he'd gone to see the king the day before, he'd been sure he would need to try again a few times before he managed to make him leave the room. Something must have happened to shake him out of his depression. Ned shook his head, pushing these thoughts away. All that mattered was that he was here now. He went over the decisions he'd taken over the past week, the king approving every single one of them and thanking him for what he'd done.

"What are your plans for my father's wife and her children? Surely you don't intend to leave them rotting in the cells?"

Ned glanced at the other members of the council, and the king nodded, understanding that he didn't want to talk about it in front of everyone else.

"That's all for today, my lords. Lord Stark, walk with me," Gendry suggested.

They left, and Ned noted that the king's steps were automatically leading them to the room where his daughter was. He bit back a smile and went down to business.

"Your Grace, a man came to see me two days ago. Yoren, of the Night's Watch. He wanted to know if we had men for the Wall."

"I assume you gave him some of our prisoners? Did…"

Ned watched as his friend's son stopped talking and walking and turned to him when he understood why he'd started this particular conversation with this bit of information. At his questioning look, Ned explained, "I asked him to stay in King's Landing for a few days, because I wanted to talk to you about it first. I obviously can't take such a decision, but I would strongly recommend…"

"Sending Joffrey to the Wall," Gendry cut in with a smile. "I wonder how long my dear 'brother' can survive up there."

It was a good solution. Actually, it was the only solution Ned could think of. They couldn't kill Joffrey or keep him in prison without risking a war. Given his cowardice and lack of skills with a sword, sending him to the Wall was almost a death sentence, yet since taking the Black was supposed to be an honor, his father and grandfather couldn't do anything about it without looking like they were purposefully endangering the realm when the Night's Watch was in dire need of volunteers.

"What do you think, Your Grace?"

"It's perfect. Now what about the others? I know Tommen and Myrcella could technically be considered a threat, but…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to. Ned knew what he was thinking. They could send Tommen to the Wall as well, but while Joffrey had always been vicious and violent, his brother was an innocent child, and Gendry loved him even though he now knew that he didn't really share his blood.

"I'm sure the Tullys would be willing to welcome Tommen… as a ward."

The king nodded wordlessly, showing no apparent surprise. It seemed he'd thought about it and reached the same conclusion. Being a ward was better than being a prisoner and the Lannisters couldn't deny that the position was rather enviable since the Tullys were one of the most powerful families of the realm and would take care of little Tommen as if he was their own.

"That leaves the matter of Myrcella," Gendry said. "You know what I'm about to ask of you, don't you?" Ned nodded, and the king clarified, "I will not make it a command. You and your family have done enough for me. I know I should not even be considering it given how much I owe you already, but…"

"You're the king, Your Grace," Ned reminded him with a soft smile. "And we both know it's the only way anyway. A wedding is the only viable option for her."

"And the Starks are the only ones I can trust with this. But I will give your sons the same courtesy I was given. We'll send Myrcella to Winterfell as soon as possible. Let her get to know your sons, let them get to know her, and a match will be made. I don't think they will be as lucky as Arya and I were, but some form of affection is better than nothing."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

Gendry started walking again now that these matters were settled. They soon reached the room where Arya was still sleeping, and the king sighed as they entered.

"You have no idea how much I wish we could just kill Cersei."

"I do, believe me," Ned answered, his voice so harsh that it surprised even him. "But we can't, not unless you want to start your reign with a war."

"You know I don't. But I will not have her released." Ned nodded his agreement and watched as Gendry bent down to kiss Arya's forehead, and then turned back to him with a small smile. "I've been told you deserve to be here with her. I will leave you alone if you wish."

Lord Stark sat down on the bed next to his daughter. The king had made a point of staying in this room for the past few days, he knew what a sacrifice it was for him to have made that offer. He shook his head and motioned for Gendry to take his usual seat by Arya's bedside. Obviously relieved, the younger man sat down and took his betrothed's hand in his. Witnessing the tender gesture, Ned suddenly felt the need to point out what no one else would ever tell him.

"You're going to be a great king."

Gendry gave him a small, tired smile.

"The only thing I'm sure of is that I can't do anything wrong as long as I keep listening to my wisest advisor. And yet… Lord Stark, I know you only came here on my father's order, and I know how much you hate King's Landing. Know that while I'm aware of how desperately you are needed here, I will relieve you of your duties if you want me to."

Taken aback, Ned didn't answer right away. He had never thought that Gendry would give him the opportunity to leave. He hadn't dared to hope. He was tempted, to be honest. He longed to be back North with Catelyn and his boys. Winterfell might be cold and harsh, but it was home, and he had never felt more out of place than he did here in the capital. Yet as he looked at the young man who looked so much like his dearest friend, he realized that he couldn't leave. Not when he was more needed here than he'd ever be again in Winterfell.

"I will stay for as long as I am needed here."

"Indefinitely, then."

Ned nodded. The king smiled gratefully and turned his attention back to Arya, the smile leaving his lips as he took in her weakened state once again. Ned sighed at his returning sadness, trying to think of something to say to relieve the pain.

"She loves you, you know."

"And I, her. Thank you, Lord Stark."

There were a dozen things Gendry could be thanking him for, from ruling in his place for the last few days to agreeing to stay, from reacting as fast as he had after Robert's death to taking care of the Lannister problem, yet somehow, Ned sensed that his gratitude ran deeper than that.

"For what, Your Grace?"

"For her."

* * *

**ARYA**

She rolled to her side, not bothering to cover her naked body. It was at times like these that she missed Winterfell. King's Landing was too hot. Even at night, with the window open, she was overly warm and sweaty, though some of it could be blamed on her husband, who was currently kissing his way up and down her body after their lovemaking. She laughed when he tickled the sole of her foot and blew cool air on her ankle.

"I'm a terrible queen," she said as the motion reminded her of how shocked the ladies of the court had been to see her walking barefoot earlier in the day. "And I'm going to be an even worse mother. Thank the Gods our children will have you for a father."

She meant every word. Though stubborn as a bull and sometimes quite obtuse when he wanted to be, her husband was caring and patient, he would love their progeny more than she ever could, she was sure of it. In some ways, he made her think of her own father. She might not always agree with his decisions, but she had never once doubted that everything Ned Stark did, he did for his family.

"You're a great queen, and you're going to be an amazing mother." When she scoffed at that, he added, "You threw yourself between me and certain death without a moment's thought for your own safety. You would die for those you love. And you would kill to protect them. It almost makes me pity those who will try to harm our children."

"I… I just don't know if I'll be able to love them enough."

He smiled and placed a soft kiss on her stomach, which seemed to be getting bigger and bigger with each passing hour.

"I know you're secretly wishing for a girl. If you didn't already love this little thing, you wouldn't care one way or the other."

While she knew that a boy would probably be better since Gendry needed an heir and the Gods knew no one would accept a girl as their future ruler, she _was_ wishing for a girl. She wanted to teach her how to fight, she wanted to help her change the world, she wanted her to shock the ladies of the court with her unladylike behavior, and most of all, she wanted to see her wrap her father around her finger. For all his stubbornness and unwavering ways, King Gendry would be powerless faced with pleading blue eyes and a cute pout. She couldn't wait to see that. If she didn't want their daughter to wreak havoc on the whole city before she even turned five, she was going to have to be the voice of reason. She chuckled at the mere thought. King's Landing was in so much trouble.

"At this point, I don't care," she lied. "I just want this to be over."

This last part was not a lie. Ever since they'd found out she was pregnant, Gendry had taken it upon himself to ensure her safety. While she understood his behavior, especially after her brush with death almost a year ago, not being able to practice with Syrio, ride a horse, or go out without an escort was getting tiresome.

"It will be over before you know it."

She snorted.

"Right. You're not the one who can't even see his feet anymore. And you're not the one who has to take four guards with him every time he leaves this room because _someone_ is being unjustifiably cautious." His lingering smile disappeared and instead of answering, he made a point of placing another kiss on her stomach, this time directly above the scar left by the assassin's blade. She sighed. "You're going to have to get over it eventually."

"Not in this lifetime."

"I'm here," she reminded him.

"I still have trouble believing it."

"I would do it again, you know. I _will_ do it again if I ever have to."

"Please, don't…"

"No, listen to me. I need you to understand this. If I ever get killed trying to protect you, it will be my choice, and you will have to accept it. The last time you broke down, it was only the kingdom that needed you. That's not how it works anymore. Our child will need you."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

She grinned.

"You know me so well."

"I have a suggestion for you. The next time someone tries to kill me, don't knock me out, that way I'll be able to protect myself."

"Are _you_ ever going to let me live _that_ down?"

"What do you think?"

"Fine," she growled.

He smiled and made his way up her body to wrap his arms around her, her back resting against his chest while his hands caressed her stomach.

"Have you thought about names?"

"If it's a girl, I know my father would like us to call her Lyanna."

"I asked if _you_ had thought about names."

She tensed and only relaxed when she felt him press a light kiss against the nape of her neck. It was a while before she finally whispered "Nymeria."

She wasn't sure what to expect. While she had obeyed him and he had liked her, her direwolf hadn't meant half as much to him as she'd meant to her. Sure, she'd saved his life when she'd growled and alerted them of the assassin's presence, but it didn't mean he wanted his daughter to be named after her. Not to mention it would be an eternal reminder of events they would both rather forget. She was about to tell him to forget about it when he spoke.

"Perfect."

"Really?"

Her surprise seemed to annoy him.

"Of course. Without her, we wouldn't be here today."

She turned in his embrace so that she could face him and let him see her smile.

"I love you."

His eyebrows shot up.

"I didn't think I'd ever hear you say it."

"Don't get used to it."

He smiled, and since she could see him brace up for a punch, she knew exactly what he was about to say. She punched him before the words fell from his lips.

"As my lady commands."

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
